Chapter 738 Arrangements Made
In Syracuse, the seventeen y/o teen had stopped at a gas station to refuel his motorcycle. He carefully pumped the gas into the tank, making sure he didn't scratch the bike or over-draft the gas.
He didn't want to damage or dirty his baby, after all. He heard a whistle from behind him and smiled.
But when he turned, instead of meeting eyes with a chick, it was a man in a plaid shirt and jeans ogling at his bike.
"Nice ride, kid. That's a classic, too. How much did you get that for?"
Cory was disappointed yet again by the attention he was getting for his motorcycle. He had expected to catch all the women with his new ride, but it was primarily men looking at his bike with envy.
His face turned slightly sour inside his helmet, but since only his eyes were visible behind his lifted visor, the man couldn't tell.
"My uncle got me this from a guy who'd been storing it in Canada. I'm unsure how much he paid for it, but he said it was almost a steal. The man said they rebuilt it to original specs, so it's basically an original."
The man walked closer, leaning in next to the engine.
"Yeah, I can see that. He did a great job, too. Say, would you sell it to me? I'm willing to pay top dollar for this baby. You see, I'm a collector, and the Hornet is the one bike I couldn't find in a mint condition that hadn't been modified. I would be glad to offer you fifty Gs for it."
Although the offer was enticing for a seventeen-year-old boy, Cory had more money now than he cared to think about. Fifty was practically pocket change.
"No, thank you. It was a gift for my birthday, and it would be rude of me to sell it."
The man made a disappointed face but backed off.
"Aww, shucks. I get it. Well, if you ever change your mind, here is my info. I'll gladly offer the same amount if it's still in this condition."
Cory took the card, thinking nothing of it, and watched the man step away. When he saw him walk to a vintage, bright yellow, seventy-eight Camaro, he was at least convinced the man wasn't lying.
The rev of the 5.7L V8 sent shivers down his spine on ignition. This was a true macho man's car.
As the man tore away, waving his hand at the kid, Cory waved back distractingly.
"Don't worry, baby. I'm not selling you to anyone," Cory whispered, running his gloved hand on the gas tank.
He went inside to pay for his gas and grab a quick drink when his phone rang in his ear.
The caller ID showed Phoenix in his eye, making him wonder why she called him. She already knew he was on his way, and he had texted her this morning, telling her he would get there by the end of the day if everything went well.
'Is she impatient to see me? Nah, that can't be it,' he told himself.
Not wanting to make her wait too long, Cory picked up the call.
"Hello?"
"Hey Silent. Are you in Syracuse yet?"
Cory frowned at the question.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Can you head to the closest heliport and wait there for me? I have someone who will meet you there. The why is a bit long to explain, but they will tell you more once you meet. Alright?"
"Uh… Sure? Did something happen? You sound rushed."
"Nothing to concern yourself with for now. Just get to the heliport as fast as you can. Thank you, kiddo!" she chimed before the call cut off.
'Well, that was weird… I guess I'll know more when I get to the heliport then,' he guessed, shrugging his shoulders.
With a thought, his phone was already pulling up the GPS to the nearest and only heliport in Syracuse. Finishing his slush in two quick sips, Cory walked back to his bike, holding his helmeted head in his hands.
"Argh! Brain freeze. Dumb move, Cory. Real dumb move," he cursed himself as he sat on his motorcycle and turned the ignition key.
The engine revved to life in an aggressive hum before quieting to a rumbling whisper. Cory smiled.
'I'll never get tired of this.'
Checking his backpack straps and lowering his visor, Cory pulled away from the gas station and followed the directions in his head to the heliport.
It wasn't too far away but did require him to take two highway interchanges, and he had to weave through some of the early lunch-hour traffic to save time.
A few cars honked at him, yelling insults as he weaved through the traffic or passed by the highway's shoulder.
*Honk!*
"Hey! Careful, you maniac!" a man yelled at him, lifting his middle finger up high.
"Yeah! Well, fuck you too, asshole! Maybe I wouldn't have been that close if you weren't cutting lanes!" Cory screamed back through his closed helmet, responding in kind with his middle finger.
It took him twenty minutes to reach the heliport, and when he got there, a woman was waiting in the parking lot with a sign in her hands.
His name was on the placard.
Cory was almost stunned by the woman's looks.
She was wearing thigh-high shorts and an incredibly form-fitting shirt that left little to nothing to his imagination, given her apparent lack of a bra. When she noticed the motorbike approaching her, she smiled, the lollipop in her mouth tucking into her cheek.
"You Silent Light?" she asked before he was even completely stopped.
"Uh, yes, Ma'am! A pleasure to meet you," Cory said, fumbling with his words as he raised his visor.
"Adorable. Well, I hope that bike is as fast as I was told it could be. We got a hell of a distance to cover, in not too long of a time. You ready?"
"Excuse me, what?" Cory asked, instantly confused.
"Oh, right! I have to explain. My bad. Well, let's make this short then; we're on the clock," she said, recounting her boss's instructions over the phone.
Cory listened, his eyes going wider and wider.
'This is madness! They expect me to do what?!'
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